Beware the Mouse
by macgyvershe
Summary: On going. Molly and everyone's Spider. Moriarty is trying to kill Sherlock, until Molly tries to kill him. Moriarty has the upper hand he's captured John, Sherlock and Molly. How will they escape. What price will they have to pay to find freedom? For Aviatress, she who requests a story, gets one.
1. Chapter 1

**Beware the Mouse**

The explosion hadn't happened in the Morgue, but it was close enough. Some of the supporting walls were damaged and there was fallen rubble everywhere. Sherlock lay unconscious with Molly on top of him. She'd pushed him away from the collapsing wall that had nearly fallen in on them both.

Molly came to and peered in the dust filled air. Lifting herself off Sherlock she began to examine him. He didn't have any outward signs of severe injury. There was bruising on the left side of his face.

"Sherlock?' She touched him gently. "Sherlock, can you hear me?" He gave no response to verbal or physical stimulation.

They were inside the morgue itself. She would have to drag him out into the hall and away from whatever had happened. This was no accident the Spider had told Sherlock that he would kill him where ever and whenever he could. Moriarty was after Sherlock she had to get him away from the threat of further injury and the certainty of Moriarty.

Molly searched Sherlock's great coat, there in an inner buttoned pocket she found what she was looking for. A small handgun, though illegal to carry; Greg had gotten Sherlock a special permit because of the death threat that he was under. She pocketed the gun then tried to gather up Sherlock in his great coat and crawling in amongst the debris of the room in the gloom, she pulled him along inch by inch, hoping that she would find help soon. God Sherlock weighted a ton and she was being careful not to drag him over rough debris. She had no idea if there were internal injuries or any kind of broken bones. Everything had happened so fast.

There was no sound at all. There should be other people in the building, Molly thought. There should be fire engines and police men and women. There should be people looking for survivors, but there was nothing; the silence was eerie and disquieting.

"John, you were in the building. Where are you?" Molly said to herself.

"I'm here, darling."

A soft, sweet voice invaded her body and she shuttered and drew the gun in one move. Holding the gun in ready position, Molly saw Moriarty move from out of the shadows of the ruined building and into the dusted light that filtered into the damaged building.

"Hello, Molly, nice to meet you. I can tell by the way you're holding Sherlock's gun that you already know who I am. If you'll just put the gun down and back away from Sherlock. I'll just scoop him up and leave you alone."

"The gun stays were it is and you aren't taking Sherlock." Her resolve was steely. She was not going to be easily swayed from protecting Sherlock.

"Ah, I can see in your eyes, you care about this giraffe. Care isn't the right word is it? You love him. Yes, see there was a brief movement of your eyes to him and away from me. You love him so, don't you babe? It's so hard to love a man who is incapable of loving you back."

"It doesn't matter what I feel or don't feel. I will shoot you if you try to touch him."

"Molly, Molly…I don't think you have the fire inside to shoot an unarmed man. It takes a sort of inner ruthlessness. The spark of dark that I know Sherlock has, but which I doubt you can conjure up."

Moriarty took a small step forward, smiling his happy boy face; his cold eyes locked onto Sherlock, his prize so very close and just a little mouse in his way.

"Why don't we do this, I know you want to get him out of here and into the hallway. Why don't I help you? Between the two of us we can drag him faster and get him clear of the next bomb that's going off soon. Otherwise, I'm afraid we might all suffer great injury and I'm not really here to get killed."

Molly made an instantaneous decision.

"You drag him out into the hall. I'll shoot you if you make a move to hurt him."

"Wow, smart girl. I like your thinking and I do get to touch him now don't I?"

"Now." Molly didn't raise her voice, but it was said forcefully.

"Your wish." Moriarty said as he grabbed the shoulders of Sherlock's great coat.

"Gently," Molly admonished him.

"Honey, I will treat him like a raw egg for you, my sweet." Moriarty dragged Sherlock's body out toward the hall. Finally, they were there.

"Where the hell is everyone?" Molly asked not taking her eyes from the madman.

"I made sure we weren't disturbed. Minor explosives planted all over the place keeping the bomb squad busy keeping the area clear. Brilliant really, then calls saying that first responders were going to be targeted and all of this going down at change of shift; a bit of chaos, my kind of evening."

"Sherlock was right you are a heartless bastard." Molly said with distaste. "You're just shite worthless."

Sherlock moved lethargically and Molly took her eyes from the devil for a moment. He lunged at her. The gun rang out as Moriarty impacted with Molly. The gun was wrested from her grasp as Molly scrambled to cover Sherlock with her own body.

Molly turned to see Moriarty leaning back against what was left of an inner wall. His left side covered with his own blood.

"Bullet hit a rib and fractured it." She said as she saw the blood start to drip from his mouth. "Must hurt like hell. I've seen men die from wounds like that. Maybe you better crawl back under your rock and lick your wounds Moriarty. You're not going to get what you want today.

Moriarty lifted the gun to fire in Molly's face. She didn't flinch holding her position between the man she loved and the man who would kill him.

A shot rang out that nicked Moriarty's face throwing him sideways.

"Molly," John was running as fast as the rubble and detritus of the explosion would let him.

Moriarty spun and disappeared into the shambles of the building, leaving only a bloody trail behind him.

"Molly, we have to get out of here. Grab the other shoulder of Sherlock's coat."

Together between them the fearless mouse and the brave solider pulled the world's only consulting detective from the next bomb blast.

"God, Molly, put Sherlock down and sit down yourself." John was looking at Molly with terrible concern.

"I'm okay, John." Molly said as she touched her head. Her hand came away with her dark, sticky life's blood all over it.

"You're injured Molly. Lay down next to Sherlock." John fished for his mobile and speed dialed the first responders.

"I wouldn't let the spider have him." Molly was going into shock, her pallor evident to John.

"I'd never let him hurt, Sherlock." Her hand clutched at Sherlock's and finding it she held tight to him.

"I know," John said. "I know you never would, Molly."


	2. Chapter 2

**Beware the Mouse Pt 2 **

_(Along came a spider and sat down beside her.)_

Molly woke up in a small room that had subdued lighting; it was plain and empty. She was on a tiny cot and touching her head she finds it has been bandaged. Throwing her legs over the edge of the cot, she stands. She is a bit shaky, but nothing that she couldn't handle. She moves over to the door in this nondescript room. Turning the handle, she finds it locked. This was not good. The last thing she remembered was John finding Sherlock and her and it was he who had helped her drag Sherlock from the collapsing morgue after Moriarty's explosive demolition.

"Hello," she banged on the door. "Hello?" She waits for what seems like a life time.

The door handle clicks and moves counter clockwise. Molly steps away quickly. Slowly the door opens and from the darkness in the outer corridor a man emerges. Molly gasps, Moriarty his left cheek bandaged and a brace visible under his open shirt, enters the room.

"You are incredibly brave for someone so small and insignificant." Moriarty speaks in his small, inside voice, the smile on his face totally without humor. His dark, dead eyes penetrate Molly on many levels and she shutters inside at his malevolent gaze. "You hurt me; I never let people hurt me. It's just not allowed."

He moves toward her in a very threatening manner, though he has no weapon, but Molly can tell he's been injured too badly to be of any real threat. He is posturing, trying to scare her, but why?

"Where are John and Sherlock?"Molly stands her ground. Her voice is no match for his, but there is soft strength in her. Like the churning sea that brings down the strongest cliffs, turning them to grains of sand. She will not be frightened by this man.

"What do you care, Molly Hooper? You should be more afraid of me and what I have in store for you. I'm the one in control here."

Molly stares at him. Her resolve is not broken by his threats.

"You're not the killer type. You don't like getting your hands dirty. You're the man who hires the assassin not the man that pulls the trigger."

"Ah, intelligent and brave, I can see why Sherlock and John count you as an asset."

"We're friends," Molly states emphatically. "They would never consider me an asset."

"Sherlock and John are here. They are a bit more trouble than you've been. John is so touchingly loyal to Sherlock. Bit like a Welch Terrier that wants so to protect his master." Moriarty smiles at his little joke.

"Sherlock was injured when I last saw him. I demand to see them now." She is insistent, Molly's mouse mode forgotten in her need to see that Sherlock and John are okay. 'If you were going to kill us you would have done it already. You want to watch us. You're the consummate voyeur, murderer of the mind, not the body."

"Insightful as well as over-the-top brave. Well then Molly Hooper just follow me." Moriarty turns to let Molly pass him and she is quick to move around him and out of the room. She wants to know that her friends are okay. Nothing else matters. Nothing.

In the darkened corridor there are many other doors on either side. Moriarty walks down a few meters and opens a door. Inside John is sitting at Sherlock's bedside. John stands, turns toward Molly; the door behind her closes and she rushes to John's side.

"Molly," John throws his arms around her giving her a welcoming hug. "I was so worried about you. How are you? Here sit down and let me take a look at you." Ever the doctor, John begins a thorough examination of Molly.

Molly looks at Sherlock. He lies in a bed that is too short for his long frame and he is paler than the white sheets that he lays in. He looks fragile and so very vulnerable. She feels a terrible urge to hold him and make everything all better, but she knows that no amount of hugging will ever undo the evil Moriarty has brought about.

"You look okay, Molly." John is so relived.

"How is Sherlock, John? He looks really bad." Molly is distraught. She feels a bit guilty about his condition. When Moriarty's bomb went off she had knocked into him hard to save him from the falling wall caused by the explosion.

"He's doing okay. He's dislocated his right shoulder and someone seems to have cracked a rib when they ran into him at light speed." He smiled at her. "But you saved his life, Molly. He told me about your tackle. You should try out for our rugby team, you know. I've given him a strong sedative to help him sleep. He needs to rest."

"They let you take care of him?"

"Yes, I don't know what Moriarty is playing at, but he seems to want us to alive. With Sherlock on the injured list, it's just you and me against the greatest madman of all time. Do you think you are up to it, Molly?"

"For you and Sherlock, I would crawl through broken glass on the dark side of the moon, John, you know that."

John shakes his head in agreement. He knows he can count on the plucky doctor of pathology that both he and Sherlock have long trusted to work alongside them.

"What are we going to do, John? Do you have a plan?"

"Sherlock's not in great condition, hard to move him, but we can't leave him. Yet, I think if we stay too long, we'll end up dead. So I think that we have to find our earliest opportunity and just take it. Sherlock will have to deal with any pain that accompanies our plan."

"I'm in," Molly says looking into John's eyes with all the conviction of a co-conspirator.

"Ah, the doctors in my life thinking without me," a baritone voice that speaks of pain and hints at joy causes the two doctor to move quickly to his bed side.

"Sherlock," they say the name almost in unison. Their happiness at seeing him awake is overwhelming.

Sherlock smiles his little boy smile that is so endearing. "John, I told you the sedatives were a bad idea. I'm having limited control over my consciousness. Is there anything I can help you with before I lapse into drug induced sleep again?"

"We need to get out of here," John says. "How do we make an escape with you hurt, Sherlock?"

"Molly," you have to seduce Moriarty. He's very much a creature of the mind, but he revels in his control over the physicality of others. Can you do that?"

All eyes turn to Molly, beautiful and brave Molly.


End file.
